


Some Quiet Conversation

by twoseas



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: A Life in the Day feelings, Emotions, Fen feelings, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, could take place anytime after A LIfe in the Day, not me, time is just a construct, who knows where exactly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 04:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15721878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoseas/pseuds/twoseas
Summary: Late at night, Quentin and Fen can't sleep for not so dissimilar reasons. Instead they talk.





	Some Quiet Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Fen and Q never really have much to do with each other but I love them so much and would like to see more Fen and Q interactions on the show. And they share a love and appreciation for Eliot, a man who deserves so much of both! It's a small little blip of a scene that came to me when I was actually up very late and staring out a window myself.  
> Please, enjoy!

Quentin sat at the window in the cottage, staring out at nothing. It was late and there was no moon, so the very welcome sight of near complete darkness made for appropriate melancholy viewing. 

“Quentin?” Fen broke the silence in a quiet voice that still nearly startled Quentin from his seat. 

“Oh, hey, Fen.” He looked up at her and frowned. “Are you ok?” While he hadn’t spent much time with Fen - or practically any time at all, really - he could tell there was something bothering her. And it wasn’t just because they were the only two still awake in a cottage full of magic less magicians on a life endangering quest in addition to all the other usual bullshit and fuckups that made getting sleep that much harder. 

“I couldn’t really...sleep,” she admitted with a shrug. 

“Join the club.” He gave her a weak smile that was sad in the eyes. “The benefits are awful.”

She took a seat beside him and proceeded to do such a wonderful job imitating his own deeply somber brood that he grew more concerned. 

Quentin sucked in a breath and decided that it would be better to ask outright than to worry about it, obsess over it, and eventually feel crippling guilt over it if Fen really did need someone to talk to. “Anything you want to talk about maybe?” 

Fen started to shake her head, but then she stopped. Her mouth opened, but then it closed. She turned to better face him in the window seat. “Eliot told me you had a son.”

Quentin nodded his confirmation and chewed his lip, her question hitting a little too close to home when it came to the source of his own unrest. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

“But you lost him.” Fen’s voice was hushed, the tone more tentative. 

“Yes,” Quentin tugged at his sleeve harder, “and no, I guess. It’s, um, it’s complicated.”

Fen laughed, really laughed. It was almost bitter, almost hysterical, but somehow neither. It was the kind of laugh that came either before or instead of crying. “Complicated. That seems to be the way it all goes, huh?”

“Yeah, it really does.”

“If you want someone to talk with about your son,” Fen started to offer, then she bit herself off. “It’s just- I understand.”

Knowing what Fen had been through, Quentin instantly felt awful. “I’m so sorry, Fen. I didn’t mean to- it wasn’t like...I got my whole life with my son and you- I wasn’t trying to-”

“It’s ok, Quentin,” Fen interrupted kindly. She even reached a hand out, lightly touching Quentin’s bent knee. “I wasn’t comparing situations like that, making it a competition or trying to make you feel guilty or anything. But it’s the reason why I can’t sleep tonight and I think that it might be why you can’t either.”

Shutting his mouth, Quentin looked down at his hands. He breathed in and out, slow breaths. “You would be right,” he told her. 

“I thought so,” she sighed, her eyes tightening with pain. “Losing a child, it’s really not something you can describe.”

“It’s bullshit,” he muttered in agreement.

Fen nodded like he had added some sage wisdom to their conversation. 

They sat together in thoughtful silence, both of them losing track of the time. 

Eventually it was Fen who broke the quiet between them. 

She scooted a little closer to Quentin, making him look up. He was surprised to see the curious smile on her face. “Eliot was a great father, wasn’t he? He was so good to Fray once he warmed up to her.”

“He was the best,” Quentin stressed earnestly. “He was the best father.”

“I knew it,” she grinned. 

The floodgates of another life opened. “God, he was so fantastic! After my wife- after it was just us he took such good care of everything. I shut down and he made sure we were all ok. He was kind and patient and so full of love. He took care of scraped knees, he taught our son everything from what colors and patterns pair well together to magic to farming. He even gave him a very detailed and inappropriately kink inclusive sex talk when Rupert got to that age.”

Fen snorted and immediately covered her mouth in amusement. 

“He was the fun parent,” Quentin rolled his eyes fondly. “He played all the games and told stories with all the right voices. Our son adored him the minute they met. Eliot was the first person he smiled at as a baby.”

Quentin met Fen’s interest with a broad smile that reached his eyes. “The first time Eliot had to be the disciplinarian he wasn’t that tough on Rupert, but having Eliot even a little mad at him made Rupert cry anyway.”

“Oh, no,” Fen cooed. “That must have broken Eliot’s heart.”

“After Rupert cried himself into a nap, I found Eliot crying behind a tree. I had to comfort him next.”

Fen and Quentin broke into chuckles. 

When her laughter faded out, she squared her shoulders and seemed to steel herself. “Can you...tell me more? More about your lives together?”

Heart aching for his lost life and in sympathy with Fen’s wistful tone for her own losses, Quentin nodded. “If you really want to hear, then of course. I mean, I might get excited about stuff that could seem pretty boring to other people, but-”

“Oh, no, please!” Fen leaned even closer in her enthusiasm. “I want to hear all about the boring stuff too. Everything you can think of. Anything you’re willing to tell me.”

As he thought back on his life at the mosaic and considered all the things he could tell Fen, Quentin could feel the tears brimming in his eyes from sadness, joy, and all the things that made life beautiful. “Yeah, we can do that.”

“Thank you, Quentin,” Fen told him, hand covering his even as her own eyes filled with tears. 

“You’re welcome.” He flipped his hand so he could give hers a squeeze. “And thank you.”

 

By morning they would be back to dealing with the quest, Fillory - all the exhausting, painful, dangerous, complicated everything that was their lot in life. But for the night they could talk about first steps and growth spurts and cooking mishaps. They could remember that despite life’s seemingly endless supply of suffering and unfairness, it was still good and light and lovely and absolutely worth living. 

 


End file.
